Death By Love
by Arastas
Summary: Deep down, I knew somehow that I would be last, that she would save me for the end. Maybe to let me know what was coming, to let me dread it. It worked. Royce's POV of his death. Pairingless.


**So, this is just a little oneshot that kept popping up in my head until I write it. I really wanted to do a scene of Royce's death, and I know it's been done a lot before, but it was really fun to write. Royce's POV, clearly. I embellished a little with the dove and all that, but Rosalie didn't go into detail in the book, so I took some liberties.**

**Am I Stephenie Meyer NOW? Erm, no.**

**

* * *

  
**

Generally speaking, I'm not a superstitious man.

I believe in the power of money and influence: Amass great wealth and move in high social circles, and you'll go farther than if you place your faith in nonsense.

But I was terrified by the time she came for me.

It was no coincidence that they were the ones being killed. It was all of us who'd murdered her that night, all dying of snapped necks or broken bones. The most obvious explanation was that someone had seen us do it, or had figured it out, and was taking the law into their own hands.

Rational, but a lie.

Deep down, I knew somehow that I would be last, that she would save me for the end. Maybe to let me know what was coming, to make me dread it.

It worked.

Two quick snaps, followed by identical thuds, signaled the beginning of the end.

I closed my eyes as the door fell in. I already knew who would be there.

"Rose," I breathed, eyes still closed.

"Royce, darling," she crooned in a honeyed voice. It was double-edged, that voice. Sweet and melodic, like bells, but hard and somehow icy underneath. Her words flowed like silk, but the edges seemed filed into points, ready to wound.

"Royce, I've been waiting so long for this moment," she whispered, and I dared to open my eyes.

She was different, but that was to be expected from a ghost… Or an angel.

No, definitely a ghost.

She was lethally beautiful, every already stunning feature sharpened and perfected, every tiny flaw corrected. She was snowy pale, and her skin looked as cold and hard as her voice.

Her eyes were the worst.

They were a brilliant scarlet, wide and hungry, with an almost feral gleam to them. She locked her gaze with mine, and it terrified me, so I looked down instead.

A wedding dress. How appropriate.

In front of her, cradled in her pale hands, was a mourning dove. It struggled feebly against the prison of her fingertips.

She followed my eyes and smiled, a slow, dark grin that exposed sharp and gleaming teeth.

"I really hate to do this," she said softly, and closed her fingers lightly over the dove's neck. "But I won't mind it at all when it's you."

The instant she had moved her hand to its neck, the bird had gone limp. I felt myself pale as she lifted it slowly, almost reverently, to her lips.

"You made me this, Royce," she hissed at me, and her eyes were glimmering black now, all animal. "You did this to me. You cursed me, damned me to this existence, and I'd rather have died. But you know what? I'm better off dead, or even like this, than in the life I was living."

And then she nicked its flesh with her teeth.

I watched, transfixed in horror, as she rapidly drained the creature of its blood. The woman was gone from her face; she was a predator now, and the hunger I had glimpsed earlier was back in full force.

When she finished, her eyes glowed a little brighter.

Tossing the carcass aside, she stepped toward me, coming so close I could feel her cool breath on my face. "You're still not worth it, Royce, dear," she murmured, half-smiling. "Even now, I still have better morals than you, so I won't waste my time or my perfect record on your blood."

But she was still going to kill me, and she was going to enjoy it.

She closed her eyes and sighed, a placid expression overtaking her inhumanly beautiful face. "Goodbye, Royce," she said sweetly, in a voice that was all silver.

And then her icy hands were at my throat.

The last thing I ever heard was one sentence in her delicate little voice:

"I never did like your friends much anyway."

* * *

**I'd love to hear your comments, positive or negative!**


End file.
